


Rock Paper Scissors

by zimriya



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Smut, Jung Yunho's hilarious competitiveness, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Shim Changmin's remarkable good luck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:47:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6450484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changmin doesn’t know whose fault it is, but he wakes up the morning after their Music Core win, and somehow he and Yunho have signed some sort of suspiciously official looking document that says from henceforward on, all major YunhoChangmin decisions will be made by use of Rock Paper Scissors. It says YunhoChangmin in one giant smoosh of characters and Changmin spends precious moments squinting at just that bit, listening with half an ear to Yunho’s loud and joyous one man performance of <i>Something</i> happening in his bathroom. </p><p>Or, that time Changmin and Yunho played Rock Paper Scissors to decide who gets to top. Non AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rock Paper Scissors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [easterlystars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/easterlystars/gifts).



> I realized as I was writing this I KNOW WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2014. Anyway. 
> 
> This would not have happened if it wasn’t for Scar [easterlystars](http://easterlystars.tumblr.com/) BECAUSE I WAS COERCED INTO THIS ENTIRELY COERCED TAKE RESPONSIBILITY. Also shoutout to my dear friend Flamingo for prompting the text conversation that began this. 
> 
> Betaed by Vic who is still not in this fandom but who has accepted Kyuhyun as her tiny angry son and humors me. All other mistakes are my own. (Assume this is direct translating into your brains anyway)

**Rock Paper Scissors**

\--

 

It starts with little things.

They’re on a break between rehearsals and there’s only one piece of chicken left and Changmin could fight Yunho for it, honestly, and probably win, but he’d ended up slumped awkwardly against the mirror three quarters of the way through their meal and Yunho’s too far away for him to do more than fling his chopsticks at him. So he settles for dropping said chopsticks into his lap and sticking his hand out towards Yunho.

“Hyung.”

Yunho looks up from the bowl with one raised eyebrow.

“Rock Paper Scissors,” says Changmin.

Yunho raises the other brow. “This is my food,” he says.

Changmin just keeps staring at him because usually that works, and Yunho sighs.

“Fine, fine. But only this once.”

Changmin wins that game, and then the next one when Yunho refuses to feed him, and then the one after that for the better seat in the van when Jaewon-hyung drags the two of them out the studio and demands they go home and sleep.

But it’s not a thing.

\--

Changmin doesn’t want Yunho to come to his final game. Well. No. Changmin wouldn’t be opposed, but Changmin also would like to _survive_ the experience and he’s eighty percent certain that Yunho only wants to go so he can glare at Jongsoo-hyung and Julien-hyung and finally Hodong-hyung for allowing Changmin to gather all these hyungs in the first place, because what the _fuck_ , Hodong-hyung what kind of show _is this_?

Not that Changmin had spent a ridiculous amount of time and energy and blowjobs getting Yunho drunk enough to tell him all that.

Not at all.

So Changmin doesn’t want Yunho to go, and aside from some pouting and attempts at cajoling and finally a truly grueling dance practice that had Changmin collapsed gasping on the floor ruing the day he decided to play Badminton outside with his friends all those years ago, Yunho lets it go.

Until the fifteenth itself, when Changmin’s early morning shower is very rudely interrupted by Yunho crowding in and stealing his shampoo and holding the damn thing hostage until Changmin acquiesces with only minimal complaining and “think of the HD, Hyung--think of my _hair_!”   

It’s only when Changmin’s dressed and ready to head to the film set that he snaps, shoves Yunho up against a conveniently placed wall, and kisses him until the other man is breathless and looking more than a little cross eyed.

“What was that for?” Yunho asks finally, when it’s clear that Changmin isn’t going to keep kissing him. He looks like he doesn’t even want a real answer to that, what with the way his eyes keep ghosting down to stare at Changmin’s lips, and for a moment Changmin considers saying fuck it to the filming and staying home.

But then he regroups and gives himself a shake. “Rock Paper Scissors?” he says, sticking a fist out between their chests.

Yunho blinks down at it for a moment, before bringing his own fist up to bump against Changmin’s gently, pulling it back with an exaggerated sound effect.

Changmin very quietly makes a note to go bargain themselves some free time so he can see about sleeping the weird out of Yunho. And then maybe fucking the weird out of Yunho. But not all the way, since he wouldn’t be all the way in love with him if the man wasn’t his oddball self.

When he checks back in, Yunho is smiling at him softly.

Changmin gives himself another shake and subtly flips his hair over the tips of his ears. “Best two out of three?”

Yunho’s eyes glint at him. “And what do I get if I win?”

Changmin doesn’t scoff at him, but that’s only because he’d actually like to survive the journey to filming. “To come with,” he says.

Yunho mulls that over. “Alright,” he says, and then, somehow, proceeds to win.

Changmin ends up eyeing his hands with narrowed eyes the entire drive to the set, and then, once the PD tells them they’ve got enough footage of U-Know Yunho and Choikang Changmin doing their thing--fist bumping? Holding hands? Trying not to pull Yunho’s hand closer to him so he can inspect it for inconsistencies or some sort of indication of alien technology because since when is Jung Yunho decent at Rock Paper Scissors?--Changmin settles for frowning.

They win the last basketball game of the show, which is more than a little distracting if Changmin’s honest, so it’s only later in the car that Yunho brings it up.

“We should do that more often,” he says.

Changmin doesn’t lift his head up from where he’s half sprawled across Yunho’s lap with his face smooshed into Yunho’s chest and his phone in his hands.“Do what?” He ends his text message to Julien-hyung, and then after a pause, adds a few heart emoji.

Yunho’s thighs shift under his hands infinitesimally.

Changmin hides a smile more firmly against Yunho’s chest.

“Rock Paper Scissors,” says Yunho, dropping a hand into Changmin’s hair and giving it a glorious tug. “We should do that more often.”

“You’re just saying that cause you won,” says Changmin, but shrugs anyway. “But why not.”

“I mean it’s just luck, anyway,” continues Yunho. “What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

\--

Changmin doesn’t know whose fault it is, but he wakes up the morning after their [Music Core win](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rzQ2ochGzZ0) not hungover, because Changmin is both a seasoned ten year veteran and a professional, dammit, but less put together than he would like to be, and somehow he and Yunho have signed some sort of suspiciously official looking document that says from henceforward on, all major YunhoChangmin decisions will be made by use of Rock Paper Scissors. It says YunhoChangmin in one giant smoosh of characters and Changmin spends precious moments squinting at just that bit, listening with half an ear to Yunho’s loud and joyous one man performance of _Something_ happening in his bathroom.

He’s still staring at it several moments later when Yunho emerges, damp around the edges and only wearing a towel around the waist. “Changmin-ah?” he says.

Changmin sticks the paper out at him wordlessly. “Is this your handwriting?” he says. _Did we get drunk_? is what he actually means, but he knows the answer to that, and the answer to that is _yeah but only slightly on alcohol and mostly on each other and the high of winning Music Core for the first time in years_.

“Oh yeah,” says Yunho, and he has the graciousness to blush a little.

Changmin stares at the whole of him, eyes tracking the spread of that glorious pink as it creeps down Yunho’s neck and across his chest. He keeps his eyes there for far longer than he can afford to before he’s had his own shower. Maybe Changmin should just. Not shower. Maybe Changmin should just rub himself all over Yunho in hopes that maybe some of his cleanliness will rub off on him. Among other things. Maybe Yunho should just rub off on Changmin period.

“Sorry. We can just get rid of it,” Yunho is in the middle of saying when Changmin manages to drag his thoughts back up out of the gutter. “I was kind a little tipsy.”

“You were adorable,” says Changmin, which was absolutely not what he was trying to say what the fuck. “I mean. Keep it. It’s fine. It’s. We can just.” A droplet of water is making its way down the slope of Yunho’s left collar bone and Changmin is suddenly parched. “If we win one of us can do the elephant spin ten times before dancing the choreography or something. Piggy back rides...boobs.” His mouth is now a desert, which is terrible news since Changmin is in fact a singer.

“Boobs,” repeats Yunho, sounding far too amused for his own good.

“Boobs,” agrees Changmin, and exits the room with as much dignity as he can manage.

When they [win Music Bank](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=alAxS-xsRsM) later that day, Changmin is too busy keeping his face together and then keeping [their award](http://kawaiipickle.tumblr.com/post/73605082023/chibisuz-congrats-on-your-victory-and-excellent) together to think much of it, until Yunho is pointing at him and shouting into the microphone and playing scissors like an idiot.

He takes the bouquet and counts off each of Yunho’s spins more than a little gleefully, and then nearly swallows his tongue with the urge to grab his hyung by the arm when the other man goes stumbling backwards.

Yunho shoots him a placating glance, letting Changmin know that it’s mostly for show and he’s not really dizzy and he wouldn’t endanger himself right at the start of promotion and all sorts of selfless Yunho things that makes _Changmin_ dizzy.

“This is all your fault,” says Changmin several hours later, sprawled across Yunho’s glorious chest with two fingers up his own ass.

Yunho just makes a whining noise in response and kneads at the skin of Changmin’s hips like a kitten. “Changmin-ah,” he moans.

“Hyung,” Changmin moans right back, and reaches for the lube.

Halfway there, he changes his mind; he still grabs the tube and sets it on Yunho’s chest like he wanted to, but he pulls his fingers free and sits back on his haunches as well. Then he sticks his hand out between them in a fist.

It takes Yunho a few moments to figure out what exactly is going on. “Really, Changdol-ah?” he says.

“Really,” says Changmin.

When Yunho plays scissors again he lets it go with only a minor whine, before grabbing the lube and slicking up his fingers. “Yah, hyung,” he says.

Yunho just smirks up at him with both eyebrows raised and lets his legs spread open in challenge. “Sorry, dongsaeng,” he says. “I’ve got bad luck.”

Changmin rolls his eyes at him grabs him by both the ankles. “Uh huh,” he says, shifting Yunho around on the bed so that he can get a better angle. “Whatever.”

“Shouldn’t you be happy?” Yunho says, and his voice only cracks slightly when Changmin gets a finger inside of him. “You won, after all.”

“Both of us won,” Changmin points out, giving Yunho a few moments to adjust before working another finger in as well. “We’re both fucking. _Winners_.” It only takes him a few seconds to find Yunho’s prostrate, but he makes up for that by spending many more missing it.

Yunho goes a bit cross-eyed in response. “Changdol-ah,” he whines.

“Yundol-yah,” Changmin mimics, curling his fingers.

Yunho’s hips rock up from the bed. “Jerk,” he says.

“Winner,” Changmin replies. He tilts his head to a side, adds more lube and gives Yunho four fingers instead of three. Cause like. They’ve got to be up early tomorrow for The Show. Also Yunho can take it.

Yunho fucking loves it, if the way he throws his head back and moans has anything to do with it. “Changmin- _ah_!” he says, dragging that honorific out into a wail. “You’re such a tease.”

“Obviously you’ll just have to win next time,” Changmin says matter-of-factly, slicking his cock and sliding home. “Get your revenge.”

Yunho tries to say something in response but it mostly comes out garbled; Changmin rewards himself for his spectacular good aim with a mental fist pump.

“You were saying?” he says, hips rocking forward in three brutal pumps.

Yunho throws his head back against the bed and glowers at him with slitted eyes. “Dick,” he slurs.

“You love my dick,” says Changmin.

“Prove it,” says Yunho.

“Dork,” says Changmin, but proceeds to do just that.

\--

Changmin’s good luck in Rock Paper Scissors carries over, and he spends several minutes of their backstage time beating [Yunho at darts, basketball, and bowling](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpMo9hS_wzs). Yunho seems fine with that, until Changmin is presented with a toy hammer and told to mete out punishment. Then he’s just sort sulky, arms crossed neatly behind his back and t-shirt stretching perfectly across his torso. It wasn’t even Changmin’s fault; he’d won the game. He totally deserved to whack Yunho across the head with a toy hammer. He’s been dying to do that since Kyuhyun was on Weekly Idol and came home singing their praises.

All that said, by the time the two of them arrive back at Changmin’s place that night, Changmin is more than looking forward to Yunho enacting his revenge, so much so that he gets all the way to the bed before he realizes that Yunho isn’t following him.

“Hyung?” he says, pausing just before the bed.

Yunho just sets his jaw and sticks his hand out. “Best two out of three.”

“Hyung,” Changmin whines, but when Yunho just keeps staring at him and not moving, he sighs.

Changmin wins the damn game, because of course he does, and the two of them spend a few moments just staring at each other in wordless silence, before Changmin manages to find his voice. “We could just go to sleep?” he starts to say, but Yunho interrupts him before he can.

“Why the hell is it in my handwriting?” he says, more than a little angry, even as he’s stripping out of his pants and shoving Changmin down onto the bed. “What was I even thinking--?”

Changmin opens his mouth to reply and then snaps it shut when Yunho grinds down into his lap.

“Whatever.” Yunho rocks his hips a few more times. “I can work with this.” His hands find the hem of his own shirt and he drags it up. “But next time you’re losing on purpose.”

“Promise,” says Changmin, breathless.

\--

Changmin...can’t seem to stop...winning.

It’s a problem.

(Sort of.)

\--

They’re filming Gag Concert in minutes.

They’re filming Gag Concert in minutes and they’re both in full suits with hair and make-up and probably fooling no one as they go stumbling down a hallway in search of somewhere more secluded.

“I hate you,” says Yunho, once Changmin tugs him around a corner and shoves him up against a wall. “We literally can’t.”

Changmin had pressed himself right up against Yunho’s back the moment he’d stopped moving but he goes to move back in response. “Sorry--” he starts to say, but before he can do that, Yunho grabs him by one of the hands and pulls.

“Changdol-ah,” he says again. “We literally can’t.” He has to lead Changmin’s hand all the way down the damn sequined waistcoat before Changmin’s brain catches on.

“But, hyung,” he says slowly, fluttering a thumb against the buttons of Yunho’s dress pants. “You lost.”

For a moment he wonders if he’s gone too far--Yunho is after all the king of unnecessary competitiveness--but then the older man is letting out a long shuddering breath and dropping his head back against Changmin’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he says softly. “’S my bad luck.”

He says that last bit with just a hint of Gwangju vowels and Changmin makes an unflattering noise in the back of his throat and goes to shove a hand down Yunho’s pants.

“Only we really can’t,” Yunho says suddenly, twisting around so that they’re nose to nose. “Because unless you and cordi-noona are closer than I thought, we don’t have any condoms.” He sticks both his hands in Changmin’s pockets and brings them as close to each other as he can, fingers ghosting over Changmin’s cock. “And I draw the line at dancing with you leaking out of my ass on live television.”

 _It’s not even live,_ Changmin tries to say, but Changmin’s vocal chords seem to have gone on strike so all he manages is yet another strangled sounding noise. It is absolutely unfair how filthy Yunho is, especially seeing as he looks like some sort of jazz musician with the hair and the sequins and the bow tie and the damn red hair. “You look like strawberry ice-cream,” says Changmin, with all the eloquence of a world renowned celebrity.

Yunho just blinks up at him. “What?”

“Ignore me,” Changmin starts to say, but breaks off when Yunho actually listens to him and drops to his knees. “What--”

“Still lost the game, Changdol-ah,” Yunho explains, slipping both his hands out of Changmin’s pockets and fumbling for the zip and fly. “Otherwise you can bet you’d be returning the favor.”

“What--”

“We’ve only got a few minutes anyway,” Yunho continues, reaching through the flap of Changmin’s boxers and tugging his cock out and giving it a long stroke.

Changmin doesn’t even bother trying to keep speaking, just settles one hand at the base of Yunho’s neck and holds on for dear life as his hyung swallows him down. Like. All the way down.

“Yunho-hyung!” Changmin ends up rasping out when he feels Yunho start to gag around him, eyes opening frantically and hands grasping at too styled hair. Their stylists are probably going to kill him for that, especially once he manages to convince Yunho to pull off enough that Changmin can see the red of his mouth, swollen and spit slick and doing terrible, terrible things to Changmin’s self preservation skills.

Changmin won the damn game; if he wants to come all over Yunho’s face, he damn well deserves.

Yunho narrows his eyes at him. “We don’t have enough time for this--you’re going to have to fuck my mouth,” he says quickly, and then slips his lips back around Changmin’s dick and just.

Waits.

He draws his hands back behind his back slowly and glances up at Changmin through his lashes and Changmin makes one last garbled sounding noise and comes embarrassingly fast.

To his credit, Yunho swallows him down with only one raised eyebrow, before pulling back after one long, tortuous suck. “That was fast,” he says.

Changmin would smack him but Changmin thinks his brain cells orgasmed right alongside him, which truly gives a new meaning to the phrase ‘le petite mort.’ Which is French. Changmin is thinking in French.

“Changmin,” says Yunho, and Changmin’s head snaps around.

Yunho’s tucked him back into his boxers and zipped up his pants and is in the process of considering the state of his knees. He settles for dusting off non-existent pieces of lint and shoving both hands into his own pockets, one hip cocked.  “Changmin-ah?”

Yunho’s hip isn’t the only thing cocked.

Changmin’s mouth waters. “Hyung,” he says.

Yunho meets his eyes for a long moment. “Two out of three?” he starts to say, before they hear voices and are set upon by the Gag Concert staff.

“There you two are,” says one of their manager-hyungs, and it is a credit to how long they’ve all been together that he doesn’t so much as flinch when he gets a glance down towards Yunho’s pants.

Yunho very quickly uncocks his hip and steps his feet together. “Sorry, hyung,” he says, pasting a smile onto his face, and lacing his hands together in front of his dick like that’ll help.

Changmin throws his eyes skyward and counts to ten, before stepping himself right up into Yunho’s personal space. “Yeah, hyung, sorry,” he says, and stomps on Yunho’s foot extra hard to help him with the tenting problem.

Yunho’s smile doesn’t falter in the slightest, but Changmin would bet that neither of them look especially thrilled in the [behind the scene photo](https://dongbangdata.files.wordpress.com/2014/02/p18f732nnivrfibp1omk1d7vgkd1.jpg) they take moments later.

“You’re lucky,” Changmin tells Yunho out of the corner of his mouth while they wait for their cue to walk onto the stage. “I was going to let you win.”

“Shut up, Changdol-ah,” says Yunho, also out of the side of his mouth, but lovingly.

Changmin shuffles their debut CD around between his hands and shoots Yunho a smirk. “What?”

Yunho just rolls his eyes but dips his head to let the stylist-noonas spritz his hair into place. “Like I couldn’t beat you if I tried,” he says.

Changmin lets out a louder breath than he was expecting and gets a narrowed look in response, but they’re signaled on stage before he can continue the conversation. Professionalism and ten years of experience steps in and he and Yunho go straight into show mode, singing to _Hug_ , dancing with their hands, and making their way through that terrible, awful joke with minimal grinning.

Of course later that night, when Changmin makes a pointed attempt to lose on purpose and somehow still ends up winning, he’s too busy gaping at Yunho’s ridiculous bad luck and then gaping because of Yunho’s ridiculously talented hips to be able to bring it up.

“Say nothing,” says Yunho after, panting for breath.

“Nothing,” says Changmin, and gets a hand in the center of his chest for his trouble.

\--

One moment Changmin is sleeping, and the next he’s very suddenly awake. For a second he’s not sure what woke him, because it’s dark in his apartment and he’s pretty sure that he threatened their entire staff into giving them the day off for Yunho’s birthday, so there’s no reason for him to be waking up early.

He doesn’t even have to piss--nor had he had any concerning dreams--so Changmin gives himself a few more seconds of consideration before closing his eyes to go back to sleep.

“Changmin-ah,” says Yunho, and Changmin nearly jumps out of his skin.

The bedroom lamp comes on sometime in the minutes it takes for Changmin to stop swearing inside his head and start swearing out loud, clutching at his chest and gasping for breath. “Yunho!” he cries, voice high and shrill in the quiet of his apartment. “What did I say about breaking into my apartment!?”

“Not to do it,” Yunho says matter-of-factly. “But Changmin-ah, you’re the one who’s always breaking into my apartment.” He’s been unraveling his scarf for this entire conversation, fingers covered in gloves and nose bright red. “[And waking me up with your push-ups.](http://shim-jung-love.tumblr.com/post/113711185612)” He finishes with the scarf and drops it onto Changmin’s bedroom floor, tugs off his gloves, and sets one knee onto Changmin’s bed.

His shoes are still on.

Changmin doesn’t know what to deal with first.

Yunho puts the other knee down. Starts to tug off his shoes. Drop one of them on the floor with his scarf.

Changmin’s brain breaks. “Hyung,” he tries to say.

“Changmin-ah it’s my birthday,” interrupts Yunho before he can.

Changmin’s broken brain manages to get from the blackness of the apartment to the clock on his bedside table. “It’s midnight,” he says.

Yunho drops his other shoe next to its mate and crawls his way up so that he’s straddling Changmin’s hips. He’s wearing sweatpants and a too-thin t-shirt, and definitely no underwear. “It’s my birthday,” Yunho repeats.

Changmin is all of a sudden very cognizant of the fact that he’s naked under his blankets. “Happy birthday,” he says. “Hyung.”

Yunho puts both of his hands on Changmin’s face. “Changdol it’s my birthday,” he says.

Changmin breathes through his nose. “Congratulations,” he says around Yunho’s fingers. “Why--”

“It’s my birthday, Changmin,” Yunho says for the third time. “Now lose the damn game.” He says that last bit with just a hint of threat in his voice. It’s nearly the tone he gets when he’s ordering Sam-san around on stage, and Changmin slams his head back against the pillow a few times to try to derail that train of thought before it reaches its destination.

“Argh, hyung,” he whines. “Stop. How am I supposed to take you seriously next rehearsal.”

Yunho stares back at him blankly. “You mean to say you normally take me seriously?”

Changmin blinks back at him. “Yah, of course,” he says, and he’s maybe pouting, but it is midnight and he’s still half asleep and he’s still damn naked. And still hard over Yunho’s leader-voice. Great.

Yunho’s eyes flick down consideringly, before his hips rock a few times.

Changmin groans in the back of his throat and resumes his head banging. “I hate you.”

Yunho giggles, because of course he does. “Not what you’re dick’s telling me, Changmin-ah,” he says, and Changmin’s eyes come open violently because Yunho’s gone and shoved the sheets and blankets up and wrapped a hand around Changmin’s cock.

He yelps. “Yah!”

Yunho’s lips quirk up at the corners. “You were saying?” he says.

Changmin makes a garbled sounding noise and gives up on his modesty in favor of fighting back. His hands are little twisted in the blankets and Yunho’s entire weight is settled across his hips but he manages to plant both feet against the bed and buck. Not hard enough to unsettle Yunho, because last time he’d done that he’d actually misjudged, and it turned out that not even Jung Yunho could maintain an erection upon falling out of bed.

Yunho lets go of Changmin’s cock to steady himself, which hadn’t been what Changmin had wanted, but ends up working well for him, because without the added distraction he can more easily roll the two of them to the side.

Yunho ends up pressed underneath him, still fully dressed and pouting, and Changmin’s bedding ends up half hanging off the bed.

“Um,” says Yunho, voice breathy. “Hi?”

Changmin leans down so their noses are touching and settles a thigh more easily between Yunho’s legs. “Hello.”

Yunho’s eyelashes flutter and his hips rock. “Changdol-ah,” he says. “Lose the game.”

Changmin settles both forearms on either side of Yunho’s head and stares down at him, waiting for Yunho’s eyes to focus again, and then kissing him when he does. Not quite full on the mouth, but just to the side, because it makes Yunho laugh, and his eyelashes do that thing again, and Changmin’s breath catches. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he says.

He lets his weight fall more solidly against Yunho, presses his knee into the bed so that Yunho can better grind against it, but gets a little distracted himself, his own hips working down against Yunho’s glorious, glorious thigh.

“Hyung,” Changmin groans out. “I love your thighs.”

Yunho’s breath is coming in broken pants, but he still manages to look smug when he says, “I dunno, Changmin, _are you_?” like the cat who got the cream.

And that is just unfair because it has been a damn month since Changmin’s been fucked by anything more than his own fingers. “I’m gonna do paper,” he says quickly, pressing another quick kiss against the side of Yunho’s mouth and flopping himself to the side on his back. “I’m gonna play paper, hyung, I--”  He breaks off because, oh well, somehow one of his hands has slid down to palm his cock, wow, when had that happened, damn--and then turns his head to the side to stare at Yunho.

The older man hasn’t moved from where Changmin left him, lying with one leg bent and both hands clenched at his sides. “You what?” he says. He can’t seem to look away from Changmin’s dick.

Changmin blinks down at his own cock just to be safe, and then lets it go. “Hyung?”

Yunho seems to visibly come back to himself, bites his lip, and then rolls himself back over. “Right, okay,” he says. “You’re going to play paper?”

Changmin’s totally not going to play paper--rock all the way--but there’s no way Yunho would fall for that because Yunho’s literally played scissors nearly every single time this past month and lost and so there is absolutely no way--

Changmin stares down at Yunho’s hand with his mouth wide open in dawning horror.

For a long moment, neither of them speak.

Changmin starts to stop feeling hot all over and actually starts to feel a little cold. Damn the fact that he’s gotten used to sleeping surrounded by an overgrown space-heater of a man and as such has put the aircon on high.

Yunho uncurls the rest of his fingers very slowly, drops his arm, and then, equally slowly, rolls to bury his face in Changmin’s pillow.

Changmin opens and closes his mouth a few times. “Yunho-hyung,” he says. “What the fuck?”

Yunho doesn’t say anything for so long that Changmin actually starts to worry, and then his shoulders start shaking.

Changmin feels all the blood leave his cock in one great rush. “Hyung,” he says, more than a little frantic, because he hadn’t meant it to keep winning, and honestly that last time he was really looking forward to being screwed into the bed until he forgot his name. “Hyung. Yunho-hyung. I--I’m sorry. Hyung.”

It’s possible that Changmin sounds like he’s having a breakdown, which is fine, because Changmin feels like he’s having a break down. “Look. I’m not kidding this time. I’ll just play paper. You can play scissors and I’ll play paper and then we can find that stupid contract and set it on fire or something. Hyung.”

One of his hands is hovering around Yunho’s still shaking shoulder blades like he’s some kind of emotional failure, and Changmin grits his teeth, gets his shit together, and presses his entire body on top of Yunho from head to toe. Of course that backfires as well, because it’s still midnight and Yunho still smells delicious, but Changmin manages to keep his eye on the damn prize.

“Hyung,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

And then he very gently rolls Yunho over so he stops smothering himself in the pillows.

And then stops.

Because Yunho isn’t actually crying.

“Oh my God, Chandollie your face!” says Yunho, red in the face for how hard he’s laughing. “Chandollie your fucking _face_!”

Changmin stares at him with horror growing in the pit of his stomach. “Yah, hyung,” he starts to say, mixing formality and informality in some sort of inane oxymoronic way. “Hyung.”

Yunho manages to stop laughing for a brief second, twists so that he’s not lying on one arm, and then drags Changmin in close to his chest. “Changmin-ah!” he giggles. “Your _face_!”

Said face is currently making very close friends with Yunho’s Adam’s apple, which makes it almost impossible for Changmin to respond, which he thinks is fine, because his ears feel like they’re on fire with how hard he’s blushing.

That.

That _dick_.

“You’re an asshole, Jung Yunho,” Changmin says into Yunho’s collar bone. “I hope you die alone.”

“Isn’t that your thing, Changmin?” says Yunho, still sounding amused. He cards his fingers through Changmin’s hair a few times in an unfairly soothing manner.

Changmin feels knots he didn’t know he had start to come more and more undone with each pass of Yunho’s fingers. “I didn’t think you were actually going to fall for it,” he says grudgingly.

Yunho pets him a few more times in a way that somehow doesn’t feel patronizing.

Changmin doesn’t purr, because Changmin isn’t a cat.

“But what you were saying,” says Yunho, after a few more moments of silence. “About burning the contract. We should do that, because it’s my birthday.”

Changmin yawns a little, and then flushes, because sex, dammit. Changmin still wants to have sex. Sure, sleep would be nice, especially seeing as they’re not off tomorrow--is it really tomorrow if it’s only midnight?--but _sex_. Changmin _loves_ sex.

Yunho appears to be waiting for an answer, so Changmin swallows hard, and says, “Yeah?” with only minimal voice cracking. Maybe if he stays really still, Yunho won’t notice that he’s gone hard. “I mean.” He swallows again. “Yes, of course.”

Yunho is silent for longer than Changmin thinks is necessary. “And also because it’s my birthday, I get to fuck you even though I lost.”

Changmin feels a little lightheaded; Yunho’s hand is on his dick; Yunho definitely noticed; Changmin is so fucking on board with this plan.

“Yeah,” Changmin says. “I mean, it is your birthday.”

“Awesome,” says Yunho. “I’ll be sure to get you something special next week.”

Changmin would point out it’s actually closer to two weeks, but Changmin also knows when to quit, and that is when you’re ahead.

Or in this case, when you’re about to get head.

\--

“Hey, hyung?” says Changmin, waiting on stage for their pre-recorded performance to finishing playing.

“Yes, Changmin?” Yunho keeps staring straight ahead, focused on their fans screaming in front of them. They’re probably ruining the take, but that’s what editing is for.  

“You promised me piggy back rides.”

There’s a beat.

“Changdol-ah,” says Yunho.

“No, hear me out,” says Changmin. “I know that we’re burning the contract first thing when we get off.”

He pauses to bite back a giggle, because part of the reason they hadn’t gotten around to disposing of the thing before they’d been shepherded off to KBS was _because_ they were too busy getting off. He’s _hilarious_.

Yunho’s lips twitch a little, but doesn’t take his eyes off the crowd of fans.

Changmin takes that as his cue to continue. “But since we haven’t done that yet...let’s do piggy back rides.”

Yunho glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “Changmin,” he says.

“Good talk,” says Changmin.

\--

Yunho plays scissors.

[Changmin gets on his back with more than a little glee](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-XSPeh6PRU).

\--

“We’re never doing that again,” Yunho tells him, pressed up against their dressing room door with the Mickey Mouse tie still around his neck, pants MIA and wearing one sock.

Their stylists are going to kill them.

“Yeah okay,” says Changmin. “But you still owe me a birthday present.” He gets a hand underneath Yunho’s thigh and lifts just so.

Yunho’s head thumps back against the door and he groans, eyes falling shut. “Maybe like. Maybe like a few times,” he says. “Twice a year.”

Changmin rolls his eyes just a little, and then hisses, cause Yunho’s gone and clenched down. “Whatever you want, hyung,” he says, breathless.

“Uh-huh,” says Yunho, and comes.

They burn the contract later that night.

\--

end.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on [tumblr](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/zimriya)! Feel free to come say hi there anyway here is my [Yunho tag](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/tagged/yunho) where I cry about Jung Yunho. ~~This isn’t even the last of the homin fics I churned out b/c of school work stress.~~
> 
> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/173054798232/rock-paper-scissors-author-zimriya-pairing) | [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/885532930143129600).


End file.
